I got my love of fishing from my Dad. Whether it was genetic or environmental programming I’m not sure. As far back as I can remember, we fished. We planned around full moons because that was when the bluegill were bedding. Opening day of trout season was crossed off the calender right after new year’s.
Bait casting, spinning and fly fishing, I love it all. I believe it is more than a coincidence that the disciples were fishermen. There is something almost holy about the solitude, serenity, explosiveness and adrenaline of fishing.
If you fish with anyone, you fish with family and friends of your choosing. No one assigns you a fishing partner. Fishing partners share some common bond, sometimes its only a passion for fishing, but there is always a bond. That bond allows people to share the thrills, boredom, and love of the sport. That bond allows you to tolerate freezing weather, bugs, snakes, and those days when just nothing is biting. That bond allows you to share the memories of campfire stories, morning coffee on the river, and catching that special fish.